"It is miserable work," I said.
"Yes; and it seems so absurd," said Denham. "There's something wrong
about it."
"Of course," I said; "we're wounded, and suffering from the shock of
what we've gone through."
"Gammon!" said Denham. "That wouldn't knock us up as it has. We both
got awful toppers on the skull; but that wouldn't have made us so groggy
on the legs that we couldn't stand."
"Oh, that's the weakness," I replied.
"My grandmother! It's your weakness to say so. We're made of too good
stuff for that. Why, you were as bad as I was when the hospital orderly
washed us. Bah! How I do hate being washed by a man!"
"Better than nothing," I said. "We can't have women-nurses."
"No," said Denham. "But what was I saying when you interrupted so
rudely? Really, Val Moray, I shall report your behaviour to the
Colonel. You're not respectful to your officer. You're always
forgetting that you are a private."
"Always," I replied, with what was, I fear, a very pitiful smile, for my
companion looked at me very sympathetically and shook his head.
"Poor old chap!" he said; "I am sorry for you. There, he shall be
disrespectful to his officer when he isn't on duty. I say, old chap, I
wish you and I were far away on the veldt shooting lions again. It's
far better fun than fighting wild Boers."
"What a poor old joke!" I said.
"Best I can do under these untoward circumstances, dear boy," he said.
"Yes, it's a `wusser.' I wish I could say something good that would
make you laugh. But to `return to our muttons,' as the French say.
About being so weak. You and I have no business to shut up like a
couple of rickety two-foot rules when we are set up on end. It's
disgusting, and I'm sure it's old Duncombe's fault."
"No, you're not," I said.
"Well, I say I am, just by way of argument. It's all wrong, and I've
been lying here and thinking out the reason. I've got it."
"I got it without any thinking out at all," I said.
"Don't talk so, private. Listen. Now, look here, it's all Duncombe's
fault."
"That we're alive?" I said.
"Pooh! Nonsense! It's that anti-febrile tonic, as he calls it. It's
my firm belief that he hadn't the right sort of medicine with him, and
he has fudged up something to make shift with."
"What nonsense!" I said.
"It's a fact, sir, and I'll prove it. Now then, where are we hurt?"
"Our heads principally, of course."
"That's right, my boy. Then oughtn't he to have given us something that
would have gone straight to our heads?"
"I don't know," I said wearily.
"Yes, you do, stupid; I'm telling you. He ought to have given us
something that affected our heads, instead of which he has given us
physic that has gone to our legs. Now, don't deny it, for I watched you
only this morning, and yours doubled up as badly as mine did. You
looked just like a young nipper learning to walk."